“Pathetic Earthlings. Hurling your bodies out into the void, without the slightest inkling of who or what is out here. If you had known anything about the true nature of the universe, anything at all, you would’ve hidden from it in terror.” – Flash Gordon (1980)
How many horses could you fit in a pyramid? A pharaoh mount.
Way back in the before time, say 2015, a scientific paper by one Tabetha Boyajian hit the news. Oh, boy, did it hit the news. What Boyajian had discovered was a particular little F class star that dimmed. And not dimmed like Joe Biden in the afternoon when the meds wear off and Jill has to put him in the special dark room.
The dimming was unusual. It wasn’t a planet. It wasn’t a comet. It wasn’t like anything anyone had ever really seen. Because of that, she got a star that’s now known by several names, the most common of which is Tabby’s Star.
Kinda cool, right? Some also call it Boyajian’s Star, and other sticks in the mud call it KIC 8462852 (A), but I think all of the people who like to call it KIC 8462852 (A) work at the Interstellar DMV and have to share the same soul on alternating weekends.
The reason for all of that excitement is because Tabby’s Star can’t be explained by any sort of physical processes we yet know of. If it were the usual “stuff” we’d expect to see the light from the star absorbed in the physical material and re-radiated outward as heat, likely because the kids won’t turn the damn thermostat down in winter.
I kid. It’s all physics. This is what happens when light from the Sun hits my driveway. The energy from the light warms the driveway, and the energy from the light ends up going away by radiation and convection (because there’s an atmosphere). It’s also what happens when a picture of an attractive girl in a bikini is taken: it’s sheer thermodynamics that makes her hot.
Entropy: it isn’t what it used to be.
We’d expect that any matter that got hit by the light from Tabby’s star to warm up, and we’d see infrared energy like from a driveway or a supermodel. Seriously, if you want the actual math, you came to the wrong place, though I will say I was the first person to calculate how much PEZ® and anti-PEZ™ it would take to cross the Milky Way, and the very first person to ever use the term “anti-PEZ©” (LINK).
There is one model that says the particles around Tabby’s have to be small, perhaps microscopic. Like nanobots. But, regardless, eight years after Tabby’s paper was published, there is no physical process that has been found that would explain what’s going on.
None. However, I thought (based on my prior reading) that around 2019 they called it solved.
Nope. Not solved. I found this out by listening to a YouTube® vidya from The Angry Astronaut. I’ve only recently found him, and have enjoyed the videos I’ve seen so far. Here’s how he describes himself from his Patreon® page:
“I create unique educational videos which focus on Spaceflight, Space Policy and Space Science. My approach is unconventional, and sometimes controversial. The future of our species depends on an aggressive effort to explore and colonize the Solar System…something that we have woefully neglected for too long. It is time to stop being polite and start getting ANGRY!”
To be clear, I like the cut of his jib, as my constant criticism of NASA might indicate. An example is here (LINK).
I hear there are flat-Earth people all across the globe.
In the video I watched, The Angry Astronaut noted something I was unaware of – not only was the problem of Tabby’s Star completely not solved, but an astrophysicist from the University of Nebraska, Dr. Edward G. Schmidt, had found more stars that acted like this. The Angry Astronaut was kind enough to point me in the right direction for Dr. Schmidt’s paper. Hats off, sir!
More stars! Excellent! That means that, whatever is causing the issue is probably natural.
Then I read the paper. You can read it here (LINK). You can watch The Angry Astronaut talk about it below (don’t forget to like and subscribe!).
Dr. Schmidt found this dipping in several stars, and those he found were all in F and G type stars. For reference, my favorite star, the Sun, is a G-type star. F-type stars are a little bigger and a little brighter. Together, they make up about 6% of the stars in the Milky Way, my favorite galaxy. They are long-lived, and are probably in the sweet spot to have habitable planets since 100% of the planets we have found life on exist around a similar sized star.
So, Schmidt looks at stars. Finds more that periodically dim in just this same exact weird way that no one can explain, but only around very specific kinds of stars nearly exactly like ours.
Is every mattress he sleeps on queen-sized?
The great news is that they’re randomly distributed all over the place, so it’s probably natural, and the whole thing is common. Oops.
No. Not really common at all. They looked at over 1,337,101 stars in the study areas. They came up that these stars showing the dimming were very rare, with between 11.2 and 4.9 candidate dimming stars per million depending on the region reviewed.
Not common.
But randomly distributed, right?
No. Look at the graph below. The circle with the dot in it is my favorite Sun and my favorite planet. The star is Tabby’s Star. The filled-in dots represent stars that dim like Tabby’s Star in a specific region. The open ones are stars that have the dimming outside of that region.
Why two graphs? Because I can’t send you a three-dimensional post, and I snagged it from Dr. Schmidt’s paper. Pretend one is looking at the stars from the top, and one is looking at the stars from the side. Yup. They’re all in a bunch.
(from the Schmidt paper linked above)
So, we have this really rare phenomenon, and it happens only in stars of approximately the same size, and is concentrated in this one particular area.
I mean, if a civilization were harvesting the energy from specific types of stars and spreading out to make a galactic empire, what would it look like?
It would look exactly like this. I should know, because I watched the 1980 film Flash Gordon and I’m pretty sure that this is exactly what Ming the Merciless™ did before James Bond helped the blonde dude save every one of us and then end up with more hot chicks in bikinis.
Okay, not a bikini. But it was Alien.
I’m spitballing from the data, but I’m thinking that the closest one of these stars is about 750 lightyears (3 liters) from Earth, which is generally farther than I like to do on a daily commute. Heck, I’m not sure my odometer even goes up that far!
What is it? We don’t know. It might be the stars in question keep forgetting to pay the power bill and keep getting disconnected. It might be that billions of clones of Lizzo are in orbit around some of these stars, because I don’t think anyone has yet tested that hypothesis.
Or it could be . . . aliens?